


In Rhythm

by jcrycolr3wradc



Category: The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Fix-It, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-03
Updated: 2019-05-03
Packaged: 2020-02-16 11:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18690340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jcrycolr3wradc/pseuds/jcrycolr3wradc
Summary: It's gonna be Emma Perkins and Paul Matthews against the world from now on. No more "I". It's an "us" now.





	In Rhythm

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Look. I require 100% more of “Yay we survived the apocalypse!” sex. So this was required by my contract. The contract that I have. I don’t make the rules. *Shrugs* Also, watching the Digital ticket and looking them exclusively: like Emma, in particular, is very very touchy. Like patting his shoulder and grabbing Paul’s hand and his tie (multiple times). So my claim stands, alright? Fun fact: this is as long as it did (one month) because Paul and Emma insisted on chatting the entire way through, I could not get them to shut up.  
> ALSO I WIN! I GOT TO POST A SMUT FIC FOR PAULKINS FIRST!

The helicopter landed on the top of a hospital and Emma and Paul were promptly whisked away to be checked and poked and prodded.

All of Emma’s clothes were taken, even her bra (which was a nice bra goddamnit) and when she asked, she was told in no uncertain terms they were going to have to be burned. After a decontamination shower with the grossest soap on the face of the planet, she was handed a stack of grey sweats.

Paul was wearing the same, when Emma met up with him again, in a room with a lock, to talk to a Colonel Schaffer.

It was nearly four am before all of the Colonel’s questions are answered. Emma and Paul recounted entire day: CCPI Technical, Beanies, the cops, Professor Hidgens, PEIP, the whole damn nightmare.

When they were finally done, Emma had never been so tired. Everything hurt and all she wanted to do was curl into a ball and shut down for a week.

Schaffer packed them away into a car and drove them into downtown Clivesdale. There was a hotel and Emma had a keycard pressed into her palm. They were given specific instructions not to leave the hotel until Schaffer came back for them.

The elevator ride up to the rooms was a totally silent affair. Emma glanced at Paul. His eyes were shadowed and seemed to look as bad as she felt. He looked over at her and gave her a small, meaningless smile. She tried to return it, twitching slightly.

Their rooms were right next to each other. They turned to each other. Emma realized that in the past 24 hours every time they’d been out of sight of each other, one of them had nearly died. 

“Well, here we are,” Paul said, gesturing limply to his door. His voice was hoarse.

“Yep. Sure are.” 

“Um. If you need anything, I’ll be right here,” he said. Emma glanced up and saw that he was looking lost.

“Yeah, me too. If you need anything.” She meant it too. Paul was the closest thing she had to a foundation now, something Emma wasn’t going to forget. She’s going to be his too, no matter what happens next. Fuck PEIP, fuck Hatchetfield, fuck singing alien zombie motherfuckers.

It was gonna be Emma Perkins and Paul Matthews against the world.

They nodded to one another and entered their rooms. It was a standard single bedroom. There was a tabletop coffee maker, a mini bar, complimentary shampoo, and soap.

Without a second thought, Emma walked to the bed, flopped down face first and lost consciousness.

XXX

The red lettering on the clock read 7:34. When Emma squinted she realized that it was the morning. She’d either slept for a full twenty-four hours or only two. It felt like only two.

Emma rolled over and groaned. It felt like she’d just climbed the entirety of the Andes mountain range. For a while, she just laid on top of the covers and stared up at the ceiling. Her head was filled with a low static buzz, preventing any deeper thoughts.

She could remember pieces of her dreams. They all featured Broadway show tunes, a mucusy blue slime, the gored open bodies of people she’d known. She’d seen Jane, tap dancing, with blood pouring out of her mouth. Paul had been there too, pulling Emma along by the wrist, insisting that she join their horrific kickline.

Not the most restful sleep she’d ever had. It just barely beat out sleeping in a tent during a blizzard, frankly.

When she couldn’t get back to sleep, Emma sighed and sat up. The clock now said 8:19. Maybe a shower would help her relax.

Emma stood under the hot water for a very long time before it occurred to her tired mind that she was also going to need to use shampoo and conditioner. It was nice to take a shower and not worry about the shitty water heater in her apartment complex giving out half-way through.

She caught sight of herself in the mirror. Without any makeup, she looked washed out and the circles under her eyes made her look like a fucking coatimundi. Emma scowled and realized that she also didn’t have a hairbrush of any sort, leaving her to pick through the tangles with her fingers.

Emma redressed in the sweats and flicked on the TV, still disturbed. It didn’t help much, the commercial jingles uneased her and the news featured film reel of the gutted Hatchetfeild. Finally, she flipped it off and at a loss of what else to do, other than pace the floor, left her room.

She contemplated Paul’s door for a moment before knocking. It opened quickly and Emma had the feeling that he’d been getting as much sleep as she had. His hair stuck up at weird angles.  

“Emma?”

“Hey, can I come in?” She asked. Paul didn’t answer but opened the door wider. She ducked around him and walked in. It looked like he hadn’t had much luck with bed either. The covers were still pulled up and several of the wine shooters were lined up neatly on the bedside table.

“Rough night?” She sat down on the bed and took one of the shooters. “These things are so overpriced.”

Paul huffed something that sounded almost like a laugh. “No shit. But I’m making due.”

She laughed and took a swig, crinkling her nose. It was very poor quality, but Paul was right: it would do its job.

He sat down next to her. For a while, they just sat in companionable silence, moving from wine to the tiny bottles of gin and whiskey. There was no way she'd be able to get drunk on it, but it was enough to dull the memories that scratched at her mind, insisting on being let in. She leaned back and put her head against the pillows with a sigh.

“At least this is more comfortable than the Professor’s basement,” Paul said suddenly. Emma looked over.

“Yeah but he had better booze,” she pointed out. He shrugged.

“Yeah. What do you think happened to his house?”

Emma played with the top of the bottle. “I dunno. But it’s probably wrecked by now, right? PEIP said the whole town was destroyed.” It occurred to her that all of her rented textbooks were likely kindling now, so she wasn’t going to get her deposit back. Fuckin’ great.

They lapsed back into silence.

Emma looked over. Paul was tracing shapes into the plain white quilt. His shoulders were bunched in tension. She nudged him to get his attention.

“Hey. Whatcha thinking about?”

He shook his head. “Trying not to.”

“Come on. We just survived the apocalypse. Lay it on me,” Emma insisted.

Paul smiled and Emma had the feeling he might be making an exception for her in his head. “Just wondering about what happens now. You know, with uh,” he cleared his throat. “With us?”

“You mean like, with whatever the hell PEIP is going to do to us?” She asked, dulled by exhaustion and alcohol. He flushed slightly.

“Sure.”

Emma paused for a moment as she considered his words again. “Oh. You mean like the other ‘us’, huh?” There was a tingled along her nerves when she glanced up at him and saw Paul looking at her very intently. A warmth that had nothing to do with the booze was climbing up her neck and face. 

“Sure.”

It was as if the room had been filled with something thicker oxygen. Breathing felt more like swallowing and she was distinctly light headed when she hooked her fingers into the collar of Paul’s shirt to pull him down to her mouth.

It wasn’t the most romantic kiss Emma ever had, no fireworks, or moonlit nights, but it took first for most perfect, whatever damn sense that made. Paul seemed as surprised as she was, she could feel him gasp against her. His lips were surprisingly smooth against her own chapped ones.

When they broke apart Paul’s face was brick red and Emma could feel how hot her own face was.

“Does that answer your question?” She asked, weirdly breathless. At some point she’d grabbed the back of his neck, holding him close.

“Okay,” Paul said weakly, reaching out and brushing her hair back from her face. “You want to...clarify?”

Emma smiled and they kissed again, again, again. At some point she threw aside the bottle in her hand, reaching around Paul’s waist and laying her hand flat against his back, fingers brushing along his spine. He cupped her head, fingers scratching lightly against her scalp.

He was the first to deepen the kiss, opening his mouth slightly against hers. Emma leveraged herself up and slipped in, tasting wine and toothpaste. He did this little stuttering gasp that made her shiver. She pressed closer, close enough that she could feel his pounding heartbeat.

They broke apart for a moment and Emma realized they’d started slipping down the bed, pillows squashed awkwardly to the side. Paul was looking at her, eyes wide and dark. She rubbed a thumb across his cheek, feeling the slight scratch of stubble. He wrapped a hand around hers and she was tugged back to Paul and Bill running off to save Alice.

_ “They’re gonna make you sing and dance and all that shit you hate. So don’t you let them.”  _ She told him and he’d listened to her. And now what they had was... each other.

Emma sat up and tugged her shirt off in one movement, tossing it carelessly to the end of the bed. “Okay?” She asked aiming for her typical confidence. It’d been a second since she slept with anyone. It was hard to feel sexy when you could barely roll out of bed and brush your teeth some mornings.

Paul’s eyes were wide as he slowly sat up. He kept his gaze demurely on her face, his hands on her bare shoulders, thumbs rubbing back and forth along her collarbone. A deep red flush was spreading over his face. “If you’re okay,” he said.

Emma could approve of this sentiment and grinned. “Then take your shirt off.”

Paul did that weird little smile and did what she said, leaving them both topless. He had the same pasty paleness all over. She guessed the only light he was ever exposed to was office fluorescents but was built through the shoulders and arms. Emma wasn't one to need an invitation and reached out and wrapped her arms around his shoulders, kissing him hard. She traced his clavicle with her thumb. Looking closely, Emma saw freckles dotted over his neck and chest. It was easy to start kissing them, keeping a silent count in her head while Paul let out these choked half-moans that Emma wanted to keep hearing. She already knew she liked his voice. It was a full tenor that she could have listened to all day. So long as he never tried to sing again.   

Emma was pleased to find that he wasn't one of those guys who acted like because she was short she was breakable and had no problem putting his hand on her waist to pull her closer and slid the other one back into her hair, combing his fingers down its length. His finger trailed down her spine, feeling their way down to the hem of her sweat pants and pressed his thumb into her hip bone. She shivered and arched into his hand.

Paul broke the kiss to branch out, pressing his mouth to her cheek, jawline, down her neck. She let out a surprised gasp when he used teeth to nip sharply at the junction of her neck and shoulder.

_ Well, two can play at that game. _

Emma dug her fingers into Paul’s sides and he shrieked, squirming away from her frantically. Emma could feel the diabolical smile curl over her face as she scrambled after him. Soon they were both laughing with the kind of hysteria that could easily lead to sobbing if you weren’t careful. She finally let go of him when Paul managed to pin her back into the bed, kissing her breathless.

“What are we doing Emma?” He asked when he pulled away.

She leaned up and tugged him back down to her, threading her fingers through his hair. “Having a good time after a nightmare of a day.”

Paul still looked unsure and Emma kissed him again, not interested in letting him draw away now. “You do want this too, right?” It wouldn’t be the first time she’d moved to fast for someone and if Emma fucked this up she didn’t know what she’d do.

Paul shook his head emphatically. “I just wanted to make sure,” he said quietly. “I don’t want you-”

“To regret this?” She finished for him. “I won’t if you won’t.” She held out her hand, pinkie up. “Promise?”

He did his little grin again, the one that showed the laugh lines around his mouth and eyes. He hooked his pinkie and hers and they shook, solemnly.

“Alright enough talking, get back down here and kiss me,” Emma insisted, tugging him down again.

They were less frantic now that they had each other promise. It occurred to Emma that Paul was probably just as scared to be adrift as she is, maybe even more so.

_ I’ve never wanted to leave Hatchetfeild, not even now. _

She kept this in mind as they started to move in closer to each other. Paul’s hands were making a steady loop from her waist to her boobs. His touch was maddeningly light. She was about to bite him in frustration when he finally dragged his hand over her breast, thumbing her nipple. Emma arched, a moan bubbling out of her throat.

 

“Fuck, Paul!”

 

His breath was warm against her neck, where he’d hidden his face against her. She squirmed as he slowly kissed his way down her collarbone and her thigh brushed against the inside of his leg.

 

_ Holy fuck! _

 

Apparently, the stereotypes around tall guys were true. Either that or Paul was smuggling a cucumber in his pants. She looked down but the dim light didn’t reveal much. However, an intense wave of fire was spreading up from her core, burning her red hot and ready for him. 

 

“Hey, hold up,” she said and he pulled away from her, looking dazed and very flushed. It was a good look on him, in Emma’s opinion. “Do you have a condom?” She asked eagerly. Paul didn’t strike her as the kind to mess around, but maybe he was the boy-scout type.

 

But life was determined to be a bitch.

 

“No, sorry. You?”

 

Emma shook her head, groaning.

 

“They took my wallet, but even so anything I would have had would have been expired,” she finally said. Beanies wasn’t the most conducive place to pick up a hot date, present company excepted.

 

Paul nodded, looking unconcerned. “That’s fine.”

 

“I mean sure, I have an IUD. My last physical was clean too,” Emma said after thinking for a moment. She was cool with it. Hell, she was sure that she could just tell PEIP she felt like singing and get another free physical tomorrow. However, Paul leaned back, looking thoughtful.

 

“No. No thanks. I meant that I was thinking of something else. Although if you wanted to know, I’m clean too.”

 

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Okay, what’s your plan then?”

 

Paul did his boy-next-door smile at her; the one Emma hadn’t seen since sitting down Hidgens lab. “Be patient and find out.”

 

Before Emma could decipher that line Paul was back to kissing her front. She slumped back and closed her eyes since he was going to play enigmatic.

 

Emma was willing to give him this: Paul was definitely on the more attentive side of the lovers she’d ever had, all of her skin felt sensitive to his lips, his tongue, his teeth. She clenched the blankets in her fist when he dropped further down, skimming across the top of her chest. His hands cupped her ribcage, holding her still he leisurely made his way over to nipple, drawing his tongue over it. He massaged her slowly taking his sweet time and driving her crazy. Emma wanted to demand that he do it harder, but bit her lip, resisting the urge to squirm, or flip him over and ride him hard. 

 

Emma hissed through her teeth, trembling slightly.  _ Fuck. I’ve seen him coming in and out of Beanies for months and I could have jumped his bones at any point if I’d known he was into doing the slow-passionate-turn-you-to-jelly thing. I could have used it during finals week. _

 

She yelped when Paul suddenly blew across her wet skin. She shuddered and grasped his shoulder, digging her fingers into the soft skin. Emma could feel his groan, all the way through her body, like a bone-deep vibration. She pressed her legs together and focused on breathing deeply.  

 

“Seriously Paul, if you don’t get a move on I’m going to melt,” she insisted breathlessly.

The bastard laughed against her, clearly having a good time. Whatever the pleasure version of a sadist was, that’s what Paul was, apparently.

 

“Move up,” he told her. “I’m running out of bed.”

 

“Beanpole,” she muttered and squeaked when he pinched her waist, running his fingers along the hem of her pants. “Alright! Hang on.” She struggled out of the overly large sweatpants and dropped them off the bed. Emma leaned back against the pillows and glanced up at Paul who was kneeling next to her, flushing. She grinned slightly and cupped his neck so they could kiss. He immediately deepened it, biting gently at her bottom lip and smoothing the sting over with his tongue before pulling back.

 

Emma watched through half-lidded eyes as Paul situated himself between her legs. The warmth from his hands seemed to almost burn as he stroked her legs, rubbing his thumbs into her knees.

 

“Um, Emma. I just wanted to say, and I know you hated working at Beanies but uh,” he went even redder, “I really liked your uniform. You looked really nice.”

 

XXX

 

Paul would not have ever considered himself the world’s most dynamic guy. He was just Paul, from Hatchetfeild. He liked coffee, baseball, and dogs. The summer tourists were always a pain, work was a grind and if he never,  _ ever _ heard another musical it would be too soon. 

 

But now Hatchetfeild was gone. His family, his job, his best friend, they were all gone. The only thing Paul still knew was Emma.

 

She could kick his ass, but Paul could also see her soft side. The look in her eyes when she talked about her sister. Buying groceries for her shut-in professor, offering to save a girl she’d never met. She was incredible.

 

And she was in bed with him, plain ol’ Paul. 

If the rest of the day hadn’t been such a god-awful nightmare, Paul might have thought he was dreaming. 

 

He leaned down,  _ sometimes being tall was great _ , and kissed her again. She tasted like the booze but her lips were soft. Emma hummed softly and grabbed his hand. When they broke apart she grinned slightly. 

 

“Well if we’re going to be honest, I was always a sucker for a guy in a suit,” she teased. Paul blushed but smiled. He gently ran his hands over her torso and down to the tops of her legs. When he glanced up she was staring at him with half-lidded eyes, biting her lip as she smiled, making his heart race. 

 

“Lay back?” He asked since she was seriously distracting him. Emma slowly did, her hair spreading out over the pillows and her legs parting slightly.

 

Paul was seriously out of bed,  _ sometimes being tall sucked _ , so he braced one foot on the ground as he slowly kissed his way down Emma’s legs, down to her knees. She shifted restlessly, breathing heavily but Paul was determined to take his time, gently holding onto her thighs as he kissed her legs, back up. Her skin was smooth as he drew the tip of his tongue over the inside of her upper thigh. 

 

Paul’s heart was thumping wildly as he tried to focus on pleasing her but it was hard when he was literally surrounded by her, all five senses drowning in Emma Perkins. She tensed under him and he could hear her hold her breath in anticipation, but Paul simply switched over to her other leg. Above him, she groaned loudly. 

 

Emma clutched at his neck, pulling at his hair. “Come on, you tease,” she said throatily. “Please Paul?”

 

_ Oh god, that voice. _ Breathy and soft. Paul would have done literally anything for her when she used that voice. 

 

He let her tug him up closer, still holding onto her legs, trying to resist. But she moaned when he let out a shuddery breath. 

 

Paul groaned and leaned forward, licking a broad stripe over her sex.

 

“Fuck!” Emma arched under him. He pressed in closer, licking and nibbling as she writhed under his tongue. She draped her legs over his shoulders, holding him close. Over the thrumming of his heartbeat, Paul could hear Emma moan and let it guide him. When he made small circles over her clit, her grip tightened painfully on his hair. In his sweatpants, his cock was throbbing hard. 

 

Freeing one his hands Paul slipped two fingers inside of her and was rewarded with an “oh Paul!” as she ground down onto his hand as he thrusted them in and out of her. “More,” her breathy demand came and he added another, pressing them firmly against her inner walls. His jaw was aching as her thighs tensed against his ears. Her moan as she climaxed was loud enough that he was sure it must have been heard all down the hall but Paul couldn’t bring himself to care. 

 

They were both still panting as he leaned back to look at her face. Emma’s bright pink blush had spread all the way up her chest and over her cheeks. Her brown eyes were bright as she pulled him close, kissing him hard, her tongue slipping into his mouth to tangle with his. 

 

“That was- fuck,” she whispered against him when they broke apart. Her fingers slid into his hair. “I wish you’d told me you’d do that earlier.” 

 

Paul let out a choked laugh. “I’d sound like a douchebag if I tried that! You would have hated me.”

 

Emma pressed close, slipping into his arms, pressing her forehead against his clavicle. “Paul, go this is gonna sound sappy, but I don’t think I  _ could _ have hated you,” she murmured. He didn’t know how to respond to such an overwhelming statement, so he just wrapped his arms around her.

 

“Yeah. Me too.”

 

As Emma squirmed even more into Paul’s grip, her thigh brushed against his still steel hard erection. He let out a muffled gasp against her hair. He felt her smile as she reached down to get her hands into his sweatpants, undoing the ties. 

 

“Get your pants off,” she whispered. 

 

Paul kicked them off and Emma immediately wrapped her hand around his cock. 

 

“Oh god, Emma,” he groaned, thrusting slightly. She tightened her grip delectably, fisting upward, rubbing her thumb over the head. Paul let her work him over, panting and moaning. 

 

“Yeah baby,” she murmured. 

 

He was close, built up by how fulfilling it was to be close to her, how beautiful she was as she stared up at him, her lips parted and eyes half-lidded as she watched him. 

 

“Ah! Fuck!” He shuddered hard, coming over her hand. The room spun and black spots flashed over his eyes.

 

He was boneless as Emma reached over and wiped off her hand before tossing the keelnix away. She curled back under his arm, covering them with the rumpled covers. Her hair was everywhere, but Paul enjoyed how soft it was as he brushed it away from his face. Emma sighed. “Well that was fun,” she said dryly. “I’m going to have to keep you around Paul.”

 

He grinned at the ceiling. “I’m glad I could help you out, Emma.”

 

She snorted but didn’t laugh. “I mean it. I wanna stay with you, Paul.” He looked down and saw that her eyes were serious. “They’re gonna do something. Make Emma Perkins and Paul Matthews disappear. But I don’t want it to be the end of  _ us _ , you know? I want  _ you _ .” 

 

Paul swallowed hard. He tightened his grip around her. “Me too, Emma. I guess you should know. I didn’t come into Beanies because your coffee was better than Starbucks,” he admitted. 

 

She smiled. “Yeah. Our coffee was shit. We didn’t really care. But I could guess when you came in, like every day.” They grinned at each other before she moved up and kissed him gently on the lips. 

 

“I hope that answers your question, if there’s gonna be an us.” 

 

He pressed his forehead against hers. “Like crystal.”

 

XXX

 

Two weeks passed at the hotel. Emma wondered if she should bother to tell PEIP that the second hotel room was a waste of money. She and Paul found ways to entertain themselves at the hotel, and not just with sex. After neither of them could be comfortable watching TV, with Hatchetfeild still burning. Instead, they walked around the lobby and rode the elevator up and down. Mostly they talked, over coffee from the hotel’s restaurant which was just as bad Beanies. She learned a lot about Paul. 

 

He was raised on a farm by his grandparents. He rode a motorcycle. He preferred dogs to cats and liked pistachio ice-cream the best. There was a little laugh he did, where he covered his mouth when Emma made a bad pun. 

 

They spent every night together. Emma got her hands on some condoms and rode him until they both were exhausted. There were some days where it felt like her hands were magnetically drawn to his skin, totally unable to keep off him. Paul was shy but eager to please in a lot of ways, more than willing to follow Emma’s lead in sex.

 

Then finally the day came that Schaffer came back for them. “We have new passports and social security cards for you both.” She handed them each an envelope. 

 

Emma pulled out her new passport, the loss of her old one, more than half the pages filled with stamps, stinging gently. “Kelly Girard?” She wrinkled her nose. She looked over at Paul’s. “Ben Bridges?” 

 

Schaffer shrugged. “Ms. Perkins, we’re arranging a five-acre plot of land for you outside of Golden, Colorado. Mr. Matthews, we have already found you employment in Twin Peaks, Washington.” 

 

Emma’s breath caught in her throat before she blurted out “No!” Right before Paul did.

 

Schaffer’s eyes widened slightly. “Excuse me?”

 

Emma was tempted for a moment to try to obscure their relationship and become coy. But instead, she reached over and grabbed Paul’s hand. “We’re a packaged deal, Schaffer,” she said firmly. 

 

The colonel raised her eyebrows. “Well then, I can have that arranged. But where would you like to settle?”

 

“Colorado,” Paul said immediately. He squeezed her hand. “Pot farm,” he mouthed. She smiled, warmth curling up through her stomach. 

 

Shaffer nodded. “Colorado it is. We’ll be taking you to the airport tomorrow,” she said and gave them a crisp salute. She relaxed after a moment and gave them a sly smile. “And congratulations to the pair of you.”

 

XXX

 

It was a long drive from Clivesdale to Chicago and then an even longer flight from Chicago to Denver. A PEIP soldier met them at the airport, and gave them new cell phones and wallets, with a brand new driver's license. She drove them to the new house, which was a small two-story cabin, with a view of the Rocky Mountains and the Downtown. 

 

Emma watched Paul carefully. She remembered that he’d never left Hatchetfeild before now. His blue eyes were wide as he took in the new house, a backpack slung over his shoulder. 

 

“It kinda reminds me of my grandparent’s house,” he said as Emma struggled to get the door open, the lock was sticky. 

 

“You’re gonna get back to your farm boy roots,” she teased and grunted. The door finally swung open. Paul chuckled, following her in. The interior was dusty, the wallpaper peeling down in strips and the wooden floor creaked as they walked over it. Emma cast a dubious look around. “I guess we’re gonna get good at home repair,” she said. 

 

Paul tried the faucet on, and they both sighed when it worked. “I guess so.” 

 

She took his hand. “Well, I guess we’ll figure it out together.” 

 

-FIN.

 

A/N And then they lived happily ever after with a dog.   


End file.
